Goodbye's the Hardest Word
by Rose Midnight Moonlight Black
Summary: After Terry has come to term with what he wants with his life, his brother Matt must come to terms with his death. From Kal’s point of view of the lost of another god man. WARNING charater death, not graphic but stated and spoiler for Epilogue. Nightwing.


Post-Epilogue – After Terry has come to term with what he wants with his life, now his brother must come to terms with his death. From Kal's point of view of the lost of another god man.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here, except perhaps the strage plot line (is there one? ((squint at screen)) I leave this to you!) Charater belong to those who hold there copy right! goodbye lawsuit!

This Story was written By Freya Black, diabolica evil older sister the brat Rose who owns this account! (Fea, you can call me a brat! your the brat!) Yeah Rose, whatever you want to think...Anyway Enjoy my attemped to beat my lil' Sis at her own game...told ya, you should have stayed away from DeviantART.

_**Goodbye's the hardest word**_

In many ways Kal-El felt it was his fault.

It was a feeling he was too used to. But it was still as strong as it had been at the beginning - back when he didn't know how to react to something like this.

Losing someone, innocent or not, was hard. But losing a loved one? Or a colleague? That was just as hard, if not harder.

Terry was both.

They didn't deserve this, or any of the other pain they had been forced to endure over the years. Kal felt he should have stopped this for them. They didn't deserve it...

_He saw the blast cut through the air and hit Terry – Batman - straight on._

_He saw the blast knock him thirty feet back and straight into a wall. _

_He saw the wall crumble and collapses–all twenty stories - straight onto the unconscious hero._

_He could feel his own hands crawl at the dirt, hear his own voice screaming Terry's name – hear Terry's heartbeat slow down, slowly but steady...._

_Then nothing... silence..._

_Then the madness took over and he vaguely remembers tearing through the rubble to Terry's broken and bleeding body, screaming for a medic –for any one. Begging for Terry to hold on, knowing the kid couldn't hear him....that he might be too far gone already..._

'I should have caught him.' he cursed, 'Distracted the mad man, pulled him out of the way – anything! But I didn't and now-'

Superman pushed the thought away.

Later. Later he would grieve for his fallen comrade. But now his oldest friend – his best friend - was going to need him.

'Because you have to tell Bruce he's just lost another son. He's real son.'

Kal wanted to take the last part away but he couldn't. It was true. Terry had always been the son Dick, Tim, Jason, Damien and more, couldn't be. He had the Wayne DNA to back him up, and the fear of losing those around him to motivate him to keep those he loved close.

He was Batman - Bruce's chosen heir.

Distantly, Kal-El wondered if it was because Terry had a more prolonged suffering with losing both his foster parents separately rather than in one foul swoop. Either way he had been able to push passed Bruce's defences - something few did.

But more importantly, he stayed there – something Kal didn't think anyone had done before: been that close and stayed.

'Or maybe it was because he was Batman too. He saw things like Bruce did. He was never a Robin, always Batman,' he pondered.

Then the impact of his words hit him. He _was _Batman? Was he so cold now that he was so quick to dismiss the boy's death – the boy's legacy?

So quick to forget and move on. Did he dismiss the boy in life as much as in death?

'He died a martyr. A hero. He wasn't the first either...' the dark thought flickered across his mind, accompanied by the images of others who died for justice, for what was right. They died too young...Terry's name joined the list with Barry Allen's.

He sighed; it seemed he had seen too much death and misery over the years to truly forget. Sometimes he felt like he was losing himself too, along with everything he cared about. It seemed that every time someone died or had a fate worse than that pushed onto them, he too died a little inside until there was nearly nothing left.

He was slowly fading to a ghost of what he once was.

'I'm too old for this.'

He felt tired, so very tired.

Kal paused at the doorway. Nightwing- Matthew McGinnis –was sitting at the bed side, hiding his older brother and his own tear-stricken face from sight. The blue mask was lying discarded on the bed by Terry's gloved hand, and Kal could almost see the tears running down the younger man's face.

Suddenly he felt old. So very_, very_ old. Ancient even.

It was a feeling that plagued him constantly nowadays, but this was different. It was a weariness of the soul.

How many people had he told their loved ones weren't coming back? How many hadn't got to say goodbye? How many grieving mothers and fathers; brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, wives and husbands, lovers and friends, had he seen scream and cry and wish only to be dead so as to joint their loved ones?

'Far too many,' he thought grimly.

He remembered the aftermath of Bruce second son's –Jason – death.

He clearly remembered (for how could he forget) the look on Bruce's face when he told the man, not only was the Joker going to walk away scot free from the murder, but he was being rewarded for it. Ambassadorship and diplomatic immunity, effectively making him untouchable to the American government – as well as the families of those he'd murder and hurt over the years. Untouchable to justice.

Except from Bruce Wayne and the urban legend, the Batman.

The father and mentor of the man –no, _child_ – he murdered. He wasn't untouchable to them. Only Kal stood between his friend and '_Justice'._

It was the first and only time Kal had been truly afraid that his friend would kill someone. Be afraid _for_ him. He didn't need to be psychic to see that Bruce wanted the Joker dead for what he did. Kal wanted him dead for his crimes but that wasn't justice - it was revenge. They were different...

'But Matt isn't Bruce, or Terry. He's their son and brother,' Kal reminded himself as he watched the youngest Bat.

He had no idea how the boy would reacted to his brother's death. Would the boy even see that Terry had left a long time ago? Would he cling onto the last shred of his happiness – the only link to the small unbroken faction of his childhood, uncontaminated by death and separation, even after it was gone?

They had always been close. So very close despite their differences. It was tragic.

'Close, except for when the Bat got between them,' his mind pointed out, 'Matt always did resent Batman for stealing his brother away from him – even now when he understands why. How will he handle that Batman has taken him away forever?'

Kal ignored that particular thought, blanked it from his mind. While it had a valid point, he wasn't going to think about it. It was just too dark right now without blowing the candles out himself.

The Bat had come between –and destroyed - many of the relationships of its holders.

Bruce and Dick. Bruce and Diana. Terry and Matt. Terry and his fiancée, Dana.

All of them had struggled to balance their relationship with a side that refuse to co-operate. Diana and Dick had left Bruce but Terry had seemed slightly better able to balance it. Both with his brother (to whom he was also a father figure since the boy had lost his foster father at nearly seven years old), and the woman he had wanted to spend his life with. Maybe it was because he was open to at least trying?

Did it really matter anymore?

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you planning on coming in?"

The suddenness of the voice startled Kal, almost must as the condensed tiredness and coolness in it. It seemed far too old to be coming from a man of barely twenty-five.

Kal stepped forward across the threshold, uncomfortable in the room. It was small and plain, but it served its purpose and gave the occupants privacy –though neither one was in a state to really notice. He shuffled under the boy's sharp gaze. The exact same gaze as the one his father and (late) brother before him had used. He could not help but notice that he had their eyes.

He wondered what to say. It didn't matter how many times you did it, it was always as hard as the first time. Maybe it was a good thing - he didn't like the idea of it becoming second nature or even comfortable. That seemed so very wrong. Almost as wrong as what he had to say to the man – the boy. The one who looked like a clone of his older brother.

Nightwing however beat him to the chase, eyes drifting back to his stationary brother, "What do you want Kal?"

He placed a hand on Nightwing's shoulder in a comforting way. Matt knew what he was going to say, thought he didn't what to hear it. He was always the better detective.

"Nightwing...Matt, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," his eyes filled with pity and the boy sat up straight and knocked his hand of his shoulder.

"Why? He's not dead yet. He'll get better, he always gets better." the voice was so sharp and tense, so begging to believe anything but the truth that Kal's heart started to break. The kid didn't need this...

The two brothers had seen too much pain and lose over the years and they come through it stronger. But for this to happen, now, it seemed so cruel - so unfair.

"Matt, please. Terry...he hasn't been breathing on his own for over five hours...He's gone. Brain dead, we couldn't have saved him. The machines are the only thing keeping his body alive...but not his mind. He's gone, kid."

Matt had started to shake, not just his head but his whole body. He snarled at Kal and pushed him back; away from his brother as if he thought it would protect him –both of them – from the truth, from Kal. The violent shaking continued and Kal was starting to worry the boy might hurt himself. That was the last thing he wanted right now.

"You're lying! He's not- He's fine! He'll be fine! He'll come back," the boy cried, rebuffing Kal's attempts to calm him down.

He remembered Terry's words to come back, to spend time together. He'd come back to him, he would, he had to.

Matt shook his head again furiously, to dislodge this nightmare before it took root in his mind - before it became real.

No, it wasn't true, it couldn't be.

Terry wouldn't leave him.

Never.

He promised.

"Matt," Kal was pleading now.

He didn't want to drag this out; it was only more painful that way. He wanted –no, he needed - the boy to accept Terry's passing before he told Bruce. His denial was gong going to hurt them both more than needed.

"Matt, he's gone...and he's not coming back. I'm sorry but it's true."

The boy fell to the floor. He didn't want to believe - he didn't want to know. He couldn't accept this...He just couldn't...He couldn't lose Terry too...not after losing his mum and dad...

It hurt Kal so much to see his best friend's son cry. To see the young man bury his face into his hands and weep uncontrollably, unable to handle the grief inside him anymore.

He could understand...and he sympathised. The pain of losing a loved one was a pain that never really went away –Bruce Wayne was testimony to that. Terry was the last real family Matt had left. He and Bruce were hardly close - he didn't think Terry had even told the boy of his real parentage. That would (must) hurt now more than ever, that his now dead brother was his only link to their 'father', other than his night job.

Kal placed a hand on the shuddering boy's shoulder before attentively pulling him into his chest, letting the boy cry on his shoulder. His own grief filled his head, tugging at the corners of his eyes but once again he pushed it away. Now was not the time to break down and mourn a good man's passing.

He didn't know how long he sat on the floor and held the rocking boy, but he didn't think it mattered. Other than Matt's sobs the only sound to pierce the silent was the hum of those goddamn machines, working tirelessly to keep a dead man alive. It could have been hours or even days passing by, but it wasn't, and eventually a now calmer Matt pulled away. His eyes were red and empty looking; his nose was running too but neither of them cared much about that. It didn't matter much - not now.

"What now?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from crying.

Kal shifted into a better position on the floor.

"Now I need to ask if...you want to turn the machines off," he looked pityingly at the numb boy. "We need an official next of kin to sign to do so...and that's you, Matt. You're the only one left. The machines aren't doing anything for him; it would be for the best."

Seeing the raw pain on his young face make Kal want to kill someone or break something, or at least spare the boy his pain for an hour or two. But he couldn't - it would only make this harder for him in the end.

Matt nodded slowly, not trusting his voice. Scared he'd break down in tears again, he couldn't say anything at all.

Kal slowly rose from the ground and left quickly and silently to get a doctor, leaving Matt to say his final goodbye to his only brother in privacy.

He deserved that at least.

***

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